


A Steal

by darksylvia



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-25
Updated: 2005-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksylvia/pseuds/darksylvia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you Plumsuede", Equusentric, Dreamcatcher, and Fiercediva for betaing.</p><p>It's 1daftpunk's idea, though I think he meant he wanted entertainment <i>right then</i> and instead I went off and typed approximately one word per hour for a couple of days.</p><p>The first scene of this story is a re-working, tribute sort of thing to url_girl's http://url-girl.livejournal.com/2778.html</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Steal

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Plumsuede", Equusentric, Dreamcatcher, and Fiercediva for betaing.
> 
> It's 1daftpunk's idea, though I think he meant he wanted entertainment _right then_ and instead I went off and typed approximately one word per hour for a couple of days.
> 
> The first scene of this story is a re-working, tribute sort of thing to url_girl's http://url-girl.livejournal.com/2778.html

"He's here, _again_," said Michael. Brian sighed inwardly. Mikey's new favorite complaint was getting old. He glanced over his shoulder and saw exactly what he expected to see--Justin making a beeline for him.

"And the most obvious statement of the night award goes to..." said Ted.

"Michael, sweetie, he's a gay boy who has just come out and discovered the wonders of cock. Where else would he be?" asked Emmett.

"I _mean_," said Michael, "that he's here where we are again."

"Correction, where _Brian_ is," said Ted. A second later Justin grabbed an empty chair and wedged himself between Ted and Brian, smiling genially at everybody.

"Hi guys," he said. Ted smiled back, Emmett waved the gayest wave on the face of the planet, and Michael continued to scowl. Brian reached lazily out to hook a finger in the collar of Justin's t-shirt.

"Isn't it a little _late_ for school boys?" he asked.

"Not if the school boy in question wants to get fucked," Justin returned, a challenge in his eyes. Brian let go of his collar.

"Good luck with that."

"Somewhere _else_," added Michael, almost hissing. "Like a mixer at the GLC."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Have you _seen_ the trolls there?" he asked. "Plus they have chaperones in the bathrooms. Me and this guy named Mark tried it when I was setting up for the art show and some fat old lesbian opened the stall door." Justin made a face.

"That could make anybody lose a stiffy," said Ted, shuddering. Everybody but Michael laughed.

Brian privately thought Justin had a point about the trolls, but he didn't care enough to say it. As much as he enjoyed the stalking as a tribute to his prowess, there was no reason to let it interfere with his life by encouraging it. Besides, Michael was boring when he was pissy about Justin, which meant that Brian also had to suffer through boredom until he got fed up and left. Therefore, it was best to distract him now, because Brian was kind of enjoying sitting here, relaxing before Babylon. Ryder had been a bitch today. Brian rolled his neck and nudged Mikey with an elbow.

"So, Mikey. _How_ was _work_?" He drew the question out. It would probably have surprised Michael to know that Brian truly enjoyed hearing about Fat Marley, mostly because Brian was convinced that she was a closeted lesbian and secretly had a crush on Tracy herself. He was waiting for the day when Michael would sit down next to him and tell him that Marley had left her husband and run off to San Francisco with a new burly girlfriend.

Michael's scowl melted into a grin. "Okay, so you know that birthday party for Kelly that Fat Marley was planning?" Michael didn't wait for agreement, but plunged on. "Well Kelly is _really_ allergic to walnuts but Marley didn't know that when she bought the cake, which was a walnut-raisin cake, because she's trying to cut down on her weight _again_ and figures everyone else should suffer, too. So of course Kelly got the first piece and since she tells _everybody_ about her allergy--at length, even if they haven't asked--she didn't even wonder if the cake had nuts. She took a huge fucking bite, swallowed half the walnuts, and then started turning purple.

"That wasn't funny, of course. I mean, Kelly could have actually died." Michael gave everyone an earnest look, as if they doubted him and then continued. "The funny part was when Fat Marley tried to do the Heimlich maneuver." He laughed. "I had to go call 911 because everybody else was just standing around staring, but Tracy told me Marley freaked the fuck out about the cake and was convinced it was poisoned by her ex-husband. When the paramedics came for Kelly, they shot Marley up with a sedative, too. For the rest of the day she was like a hippie at Woodstock. She'd do anything anybody told her to--while giggling. I had to send her home eventually, but not until we'd gotten her to do her Saturday Night Fever impression on aisle three."

Brian laughed and glanced over at Justin, who had his face buried in his arm. Emmett and Ted were leaning on each other chortling.

"What are you boys giggling over?" asked Debbie. Brian didn't feel it was his duty to answer and instead grabbed Michael's beer and drank the rest of it.

"Michael is regaling us with tales from the Big Q," said Emmett. "How are you, Deb?"

"I'm fine, Em, and thanks for asking. Unlike some other ungrateful people I gave birth to." She glared at Michael. There were many times when Brian was glad this ruled him out.

"Ma," said Michael, his voice bubbling under with controlled annoyance. "I thought we talked about you coming here."

"Michael honey, _you_ talked and I looked at you in disbelief at all the shit coming out of your mouth."

"I don't see Vic," said Justin, such a little WASP and probably trained from birth to stop embarrassing familial confrontations. "Are you drinking alone?"

Debbie laughed, "No, I'm not that far gone. I'm collecting donations for PFLAG, from all these lovely nocturnal Liberty Avenue establishments." She waved her hands in illustration and tossed a flyer down on their table. It was pink and didn't say anything about free drinks, so Brian ignored it.

"Why that's so _sweet_ of you, Deb," said Brian. "I wish I could stay and help, but I've got to go...perform other charitable acts." Brian felt more than saw all heads turn to look where he was looking, at a man in a tight black shirt fondling a pool cue and eye-fucking him. He was already half way out of his seat in anticipation of getting his hands on that.

"Uh, Brian," said Ted.

"What, Theodore?" he asked, his words sharp at the ends.

"Sorry, Brian, I'm not trying to cock-block, but I walked past the clinic on my lunch hour today and uh, the hottie in black over there came out looking shaky. He threw up in the garbage can. Whatever they told him, I don't think you want them to tell you the same thing."

Brian eased himself slowly back into the chair. Fuck. "Well," he said into the silence. "I think it's time to move on. Who's coming?" As he was expecting, Justin sprang up from the table, tugging his shirt down and practically bouncing.

"Not you," Brian told him, successfully resisting the urge to slide his fingers over the soft skin recently exposed.

Justin smiled defiantly. "I'm a member, remember?" He sidled past Brian. "How are you going to stop me?"

"I could call your mommy."

Justin's look of utter disgust caused Brian a brief twinge. It _was_ a low blow. He glanced over to see Michael smiling smugly, and this just confirmed that he wouldn't actually do it.

"Look. Whatever. Just stay out of my way. I've got...things to do." He stalked out, knowing the rest were trailing along behind him.

"Bye boys!" Debbie called after them.

* * * * *

Surprisingly, Justin _did_ stay out of his way, even during multiple trips to the backroom. Mr. Buzzcut had given decent head and Mr. Hawaiian Shirt had had a really nice ass, so Brian was feeling relatively calm and lazy, leaning against the bar and watching the owner of an even nicer ass, who was enjoying himself on the dancefloor. Brian made a serious effort not to watch him, but no matter where else he tried to focus, his eyes kept sliding back to Justin.

Justin had two guys dancing close, but his eyes were closed and he wasn't touching either one of them. It amused Brian, gave him a small, smug spark in thinking that he could have Justin whenever--wherever--he wanted, whereas those two guys were going to be ditched the second Brian made his move. And Brian _was_ going to move. He wasn't sure when that had been decided, but there it was.

It wasn't, Brian thought, that Justin was impossible to resist. Brian had resisted easily plenty of times--mostly to make sure he could. It was that who would fucking _want_ to resist? All that biteable skin, spiky hair, and his wide, arrogant smile--it was Brian's for as long as he could stand it. And Justin was so _bendy_ and willing--there were so many things Brian hadn't done with him yet, things that would earn him wide, curious eyes followed by a slow, evil smile, which was then usually followed by a night full of mind-blowing orgasms. Brian wasn't in the habit of turning down really good sex, even if it was with his teenage stalker.

He nursed a beer for another half an hour, refrained from mocking Ted since he'd done him a favor tonight, and listened with half an ear to Michael complain about the lack of fuckable guys. This got old even faster than his jealousy over justin. Brian finally pointed out a certifiably hot guy and shoved Michael in his direction with a, "Fuck him for me," before putting down his bottle and heading out to fetch Justin.

One of the guys backed off at the mere lift of Brian's eyebrow, but the one behind Justin glared and slid a proprietary hand over Justin's stomach. _Twinks these days,_ thought Brian. Some of them had no fucking clue who they were dealing with. He stepped in front of Justin and leaned in close until he was breathing over Justin's lips.

"Justin," he said softly, almost a vibration, their lips barely touching.

"Brian?" Justin asked, eyes snapping open, pupils shrinking, and mouth parting to conveniently let in Brian's tongue. Brian brought their mouths together and Justin was already kissing back, his soft, fuckable mouth moving hungrily over Brian's. Brian gripped his chin and kissed him harder with just an edge of teeth. Then he pulled away.

"Say goodbye to your friend, Justin. It's time for school boys to be in bed."

Justin stepped smoothly away from his former dance partner without a backwards glance and moved just as smoothly up against Brian. "I like your bed," said Justin. Brian folded him under one arm and led the way out.

* * * * *

The sound of the door sliding shut echoed all around the loft. Brian didn't bother turning on the lights. Instead, he grabbed a handful of Justin's t-shirt and walked him backwards, up the stairs and to the bed, until a slight shove sent him toppling onto the sheets. Brian flipped on the blue lights over the bed and took a moment to look at Justin, mouth parted, elbows propping him up, and the clear outlines of his erection pushing on the fabric of his khakis.

Brian grabbed one ankle and divested him of his sock. The other one followed. He moved a lazy hand up Justin's leg, and enjoyed the hitching breaths and then the low moan he coaxed out when he pressed his palm to Justin's clothed dick. Justin looked up at him darkly, waiting. He untied Justin's pants and yanked them smoothly off, then planted a hand on either side of Justin's hips and ran his tongue over the length of his cock through the cloth of his underwear.

"Brian, don't, I'm too--I'm g-gonna--" Brian closed his mouth over the warm head and Justin's words died on a stuttered breath. A hand closed around a fistful of Brian's hair. "Brian, brianbrian_Brian_," Justin chanted, while Brian sucked. Each inflection was different, as each stroke of Brian's mouth was different, and Brian wasn't even out of breath when Justin came with a sharp cry, arching into his mouth. He smiled. Seventeen-year-olds.

Brian peeled off the underwear and enjoyed the way it made Justin twitch. Then Brian crawled up and sat back on Justin's thighs so that he could drag Justin's shirt over his head. Justin was a limp and sated little rag doll at the moment, but Brian knew he'd be recovered in five minutes and moaning Brian's name in five more.

Justin reached a lazy hand up and flipped open the button of Brian's jeans. He skated fingers over Brian's stomach, and lower, raking his fingernails through the soft hair. He willed down the shiver that tried to break over him and instead held Justin's fearless gaze for a long moment while Justin explored. When Justin made a frustrated noise at his limited access, Brian rolled off the bed and stripped his clothes off before sliding back down on top of him, skin to skin.

"Do you know what we're going to do tonight?" Brian asked, silkily, before he slid his tongue over Justin's jaw to taste the stubble that barely counted as stubble.

"The same thing we do every night, Pinky," Justin said, and then laughed. His stomach muscles jerked against Brian's. Brian raised an eyebrow and laughed softly, too, but decided to forego the obvious school-boy-and-cartoons joke in favor of sinking his teeth into Justin's neck, which caused his whole body to arch like a bow against Brian's. And sure enough--he was already half hard again.

"Never the _same_," said Brian. He planted a hand on Justin's chest and sat up so he could lean over and open the bedside table drawer. He tossed the lube onto the bed beside them, and a handful of condoms which would be gone before morning, and at last his hand connected with what he wanted. He withdrew a long, red dildo, and grinned an involuntarily wolfish grin when Justin did exactly as expected: his eyes got wide and then they turned so black with lust that Brian's own pulse sped up. He trailed the dildo down Justin's chest.

"I'm going to fuck you with this," he said, voice deliberately low and slow, and he felt a wave of fresh lust roll over him at the sudden mental images. Justin's cock brush his stomach. "Roll over."

Justin rolled and twisted under him, flat on his stomach, his legs spread wide, and wherever Brian touched him, his skin jerked. Brian enjoyed that for as long as he could stand, touching him in unexpected places with hands and the dildo, until Justin was making gruff little noises into the pillow and each one of them shot down through Brian's body like small electric shocks.

The snap of the top of the lube brought a, "God, Brian, hurry _up_," so Brian obligingly pressed his fingers inside of Justin and then replaced them with the head of the dildo. Justin pushed back on it, suddenly, and Brian honestly didn't know if it had been he or Justin that moaned. This was his show, however, and he wanted to watch. Justin could push back when it was Brian's dick inside him. For now...Brian placed a hand on Justin's lower back and held him down as he fucked him slowly. Justin _writhed_. It was so fucking hot.

But there was only so much fun to be had when it was a dildo instead of his dick, and Justin was already flushed red and holding his breath so he was much closer than Brian wanted him. He tossed the dildo aside and tugged at Justin's hip. Justin rolled and let Brian rearrange his legs, running his fingers over everything he came in contact with. Brian slipped a condom on and Justin moved his legs up and around his waist, grabbed Brian's neck, and kissed him just as he slid smoothly inside.

Brian liked fucking Justin face-to-face. It wasn't because of some bullshit 'connection' or because he liked fucking Justin any better than the next trick--it was that Justin was fun to watch. His expressions and his noises were enough to make Brian want to fuck him all over again, even when they'd just finished.

"_Harder_, Brian," Justin demanded, his eyes squeezed shut, and Brian decided that he'd have to teach him to talk dirty at some point. He gripped Justin's hips, fingers digging into smooth skin, and obligingly fucked him harder. He leaned down and thrust his tongue into Justin's mouth, the same movement and rhythm as his cock and then Justin was coming, warm, all over their stomachs. Brian kissed him firmly and pushed deep, finally letting his own orgasm build up and break and slowly flood him, his legs shaking involuntarily.

When he had at least part of his mind back, he unclenched his fingers from Justin's hips and Justin let go of his hair and relaxed beneath him. He used a far corner of the sheets to collect Justin's come, rolled off, and stalked to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. Justin was sitting on the edge of the bed when he came back.

"What?" he asked.

"It's my drawing," said Justin, pointing at Brian's dresser. "You bought my drawing."

"Yeah," he said, and crawled into bed.

"You paid two hundred dollars for something I made."

"I'm not exactly poor," Brian pointed out and wondered where this was going and if it was anywhere even remotely interesting.

"I would have given it to you, you know," said Justin. He turned from his drawing and crawled up alongside Brian, running a hand over Brian's jaw, and trying to read him. People always tried to read Brian. He delighted in giving them exactly nothing.

"That wasn't the point," Brian told him.

"Well, I know you didn't buy it to donate money to the GLC," Justin returned, laughing.

"Especially not when they employ old ugly lesbians to thwart fucking in the bathroom." He pinched Justin's ass, which earned him an indignant, 'hey!' but provided the distraction he needed to shove Justin flat on his back again, one of Brian's knees wedged between Justin's.

Justin reached up and cupped Brian's face in both hands, his eyes wide and laughing, but his face serious. "You're the first person ever to buy my art," he said. "Thank you." And he drew Brian down so that he could kiss his cheekbones. Brian thought he may have just made his stalking problem exponentially worse, but couldn't work up any real horror when Justin was lying spread out underneath him, grateful and ready for round number three, his mouth already working over Brian's skin.

It didn't matter, anyway. Once he'd stopped fucking Justin, Justin would go away, and then he'd have this framed sketch: a steal at two hundred dollars, from some famous artist he'd once fucked.


End file.
